What They Don't Consider
by Wise Owl Emporium
Summary: Ever wondered what psychic pollen entities dream about? Fluffy - and /very/ OOC Valeyard.


**A/N: Testing, testing... hulloooo! Me here, with my first fanfic on my sparkly new individual account. ^_^**

**Disclaimer: Wise Owl does not own Doctor Who.**

**Das Spiel kann beginnen!**

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What They Don't Consider

As it always did, night came. Or at least what was assumed to be night in the time vortex. And amongst the billions of micro-organisms and travellers living in that mighty swirl - some doomed to stay for all eternity, others merely pausing to take a break from lives of excitement - there was a parasite, a psychic pollen entity, who considered himself absolutely and indubitably _different._

After a long, hard day of feeding on darkness and subsequently terrifying those who possessed it, the Dream Lord had finally admitted to himself that it was time to rest for the night. Settling down in a secluded corner of the universe's highway, he allowed himself to slip into slumber, and vaguely muse at what might have been, or what was, that he couldn't usually remember.

0000

"_The 'Dream Lord'… yes… that is what I shall name you…"_

_He was small. Smaller than usual. Tiny. Miniscule. A light coating of sandy-coloured hair covered his head - _covered _it? That was bizarre. Stretching his fingers out from under the white cotton blanket that was wrapped around him, he noticed how small and pink they were._

"_Ah… you're awake, I see. Good, good… did you hear me just now?"_

_T__hat voice again. Deep, sincere. He'd heard it before, but had never been able to make out the words. Now he could, though. Strange. Lifting his head a little, the psychic entity attempted to focus unfamiliar, dewy eyes on the speaker, whom he was fairly certain was holding him._

"_I have just named you. I hope you find your name as fitting as I do... I have seen who you will grow to be…"_

_As they began to slowly move - towards a window, it seemed - a tall figure swam into the Dream Lord's vision, which was surprisingly difficult to focus. An older man, perhaps in his fifties, although the look in his grey gaze suggested many more years of wisdom. Dark, combed-back hair, dressed in black robes with a broad silver collar… he was certain he knew this person from somewhere. The feeling was in his inherited memories - but it was impossible to concentrate on them now; he felt so _safe… _it was unlike anything he'd ever experienced._

"_But for now at least, I have you, and I will raise you as a brother should…"_

A brother!?

_His surroundings dissolved…_

0000

_He was bigger, taller, stronger - but still with the strangely complete hairstyle. Dressed in a grey tweed jacket, trousers and pinstriped shirt, the young Dream Lord sat expectantly on a cushion. As per usual on a Friday, his brother - whom he now called 'Valey', since he couldn't quite say the full name - knelt opposite him, with a large leather-bound book, quill and ink bottle._

"_Good morning, Dream Lord." He always started like this; it seemed to be of great importance to him to mention his sibling's name at least twice in a day._

"_Good morning, Valey," the psychic entity piped back. The man chuckled quietly, then asked the same question he always did. It was never said unkindly, never meant to intimidate or threaten._

"_Kindly recite what you learnt last lesson." _

_Smiling enthusiastically, the Dream Lord began to speak, pausing every once in a while to check he was saying the right word. He didn't quite understand it all, but his brother had assured him that it would eventually make sense._

_And his inability to say 'r' sounds? It would resolve itself in time._

"_The Doctor is a wenegade Time Lord fwom the planet Gallifwey. He has twavelled the universe for hundweds of years, taking far more lives than he has saved. The only way to stop his merciless massacre of all beings is to kill him. Only then can the universe weturn to its previous state of balance." He stopped, looking pleased with himself. _

_Valey nodded, impressed, and reached out a cold, gloved hand to pat his young student on the head. "Correct. I see you have been listening well." Picking up the book, which was almost furry with dust, he flicked through its yellowing pages until he found what he needed. He set it down in front of the Dream Lord._

"'_Psychic… pollen'?" he read. "What's that?"_

_As he looked up for the answer, his brother gave a sigh. "This will be difficult. Psychic pollen, my mystified mentee, is what you are."_

What he was!?

_Again, his surroundings seemed to fade._

0000

_The robust steel door swept smoothly open, and as bright white lights blinked on inside the long, whitewashed room, the young Dream Lord was ushered inside. His brother followed, immediately going to a cabinet on one wall after bolting the door behind them both. He had decided, he explained, to take his sibling's Friday lessons to another level, since he was now at the symbolic age of eight. 'Symbolic'… another of the many words the psychic entity couldn't fathom the meaning of._

"_Now, then," Valey said softly, approaching his student and looking down on him like a sentry from a watchtower. "Today, your lessons are to start gravitating away from books. They are, of course, valuable and highly useful resources, but there are… certain things… that can be taught far better in a practical environment." At this he knelt before the Dream Lord, and pulled from behind his back a small dagger. The deceptively sparkling silver blade was little more than four and a half inches - perfect, he considered grimly, for a beginner. "Think of this as your new quill."_

_T__he innocent confusion in the young pollen entity's eyes could not be clearer as he cautiously took the weapon. "But it's a knife… isn't it?" Living with his brother, one never knew what could be disguised as what._

"_You are quite correct, young chap. It _is _a knife, of sorts. A dagger, with which you are to learn correct technique and state of mind." As he spoke, Valey rose and crossed the room to punch numbers into a keypad. With an ominous hiss, a metal panel slid open in the wall, revealing a hanging straw doll the size of a man. Two crosses had been daubed upon its chest in scarlet paint._

_S__uddenly, it was as if a bucket of icy water had been poured down the Dream Lord's little spine. Was it his imagination, or did his sibling's voice sound a little less friendly?_

"_Focus your mind. Then advance, and prove yourself..."_

0000

_As he had all those lifetimes ago, the Valeyard once again found himself gazing at the specks of psychic pollen in his palm. Extending a hand to slowly open the door of his TARDIS, he reminded himself of the role his younger brother had yet to play. The area of space-time his ship had floated in all these years was a highly strange one - in conventional 'reality', the 'normal' dimension that most species inhabited, the Dream Lord had yet to be born. But soon, that time would come. _

_Absently, he ran a fingertip over the spores, caressing them, wishing them well. "We are parting for now," he whispered, furiously denying in the back of his mind that there could be anything like a lump rising in his throat. "But we will meet again. And when we do, we shall kill the Doctor, and everything will. Be. Perfect. I _know _it." With a flick of his wrist, he threw, and the pollen was whisked out of sight in an instant, swifter than a songbird flies on the thermals._

0000

The Dream Lord eased himself back into consciousness. All his questions now felt answered. _Killing the Doctor… _the very concept sounded like an epic quest - and oh, how he _loved _games.

Determined, he set off. Whether the content of that dream had been fabricated or otherwise, it gave him something to do - something else to _achieve. _He had to find this Valeyard, his brother. He _knew _it_._

Because together, they would be unstoppable. Together, all would be perfect.

THE END

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**Wise Owl :)**


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